


PMD:H Drabble Collection

by Samadriel



Series: PMD drabbles and oneshots [2]
Category: Pokemon Mystery Dungeon, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Time & Explorers of Darkness & Explorers of Sky
Genre: Angst, Drabble Collection, Gen, tags to be added!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22477324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samadriel/pseuds/Samadriel
Summary: [Tie in to PMD Hellfire comic]Various drabbles based on prompts, to give a bit more light to the characters of this story. Tags to be added with new chapters.
Series: PMD drabbles and oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1617202
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. 1: Ignipotent

**Author's Note:**

> These drabbles tie in to my comic, PMD:Hellfire!  
> http://pmdhellfire.cfw.me/

**ignipotent** _\- presiding over fire_

It’s a strange feeling to be a creature of fire, Mila mused. Her veins blister from the heat coursing through them, her muscles ignite from the blood perforating them. If she concentrates, she can feel the source of it in her core. It burns and flickers and grows from the focus upon it, transforming from a candle into a raging wildfire. The sun itself grows inside her, consuming every part of her physical being with its fiery tendrils until it inevitably escapes and sets the world around her ablaze.

But instead, the blaze remains caged within her body, pushing and clawing at its confines until the sensation makes her restless. She shifts on her feet, and bares her fangs. The dam wall breaks, and the fire inferno floods out into the open, coating her teeth and flying off into embers that dance through the cool night air.

It wants so desperately to escape, yet she grasps it and holds it in just enough so that the flames continuously flow from her jaw. It should be painful. Yet, it feels pleasant, as if she’s holding the essence of a homely fire or the scorching heat of a summer’s day.

She stares ahead at Tank, empty eye sockets lock onto her own. When he nods, she releases it. In an instant, the flame evaporates, embers flying off into the atmosphere. For a split second, she’s left empty and cold. The icy air bathes her tongue and it’s almost painful. Just as quickly as it left her, she feels her core ignite, heat once again circulating her veins and singeing her flesh.

She swears she sees a smirk grace Tank’s static skull. “Very good, Mila. Next, try using thunder fang.”


	2. 2: Apricity & Hiraeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghost pokemon will slowly lose their memories of their past life. It starts with the small details...

**apricity** _\- the warmth of the sun in the winter_

 **hiraeth** _\- a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past_

The last time the sky was this clear, Tank does not know. It’s not as blue as it once was, before the fire fell. It’s duller, greyer. As if there will forever be a fog blanketing the burnt land.

Or maybe the sky really was always this colour, he can’t remember.

He found that to be happening a lot lately. It was the little things. The ambient chatter as the townsfolk went about their day. The clink of glasses and laughter ringing out from the café. Chatot’s squawk. Tana’s voice.

Those little details became smoke, slowly leaking from the holes in his skull. He tried so desperately to grasp them, to put them back, but they just trailed away and dissipated to the sky above.

Sirius points out how it’s actually warm for a change, as he stretches his limbs and relishes in the warmth bathing his silver fur. Mila seems to notice it as well, cheerfully suggesting the two go swim at the beach. Sirius reminds her of the toxic fire dripping into the bay.

A brief memory appears in Tank’s mind. Namira, Tana, and himself on the beach. The cool salty air contrasts against the warmth hitting his fur. The sand is soft and silky under his paws as the three run, play, and laugh under the winter sun.

Then, it’s gone, dissolved into the air around him. He tries to hold onto it a bit longer. Grasping at it.

Clutching it.

Just a bit longer.

Please.

Please…

But it slips through his grasp.


	3. 3: Morituro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to the fire type pokemon?

**morituro** _\- of someone who is next or destined to die_

You’re going to die.

You know it to be true, and yet you keep running. Paws thundering upon the barren ground, heart beating so loud that it shakes your body and consumes your senses. Your lungs hurt, the air rushing through now stings and makes you gasp. You force yourself to keep running. You’re built for speed, your species prides itself on that. Surely, you can outrun them.

You’re the only one left from your pack. You didn’t see them, but over the roaring of your heart you could hear the Weaviles picking them off, one by one. You have the type advantage, you could easily take them out if you had the chance. But typing doesn’t matter when every other factor is against you.

You were ambushed. Outwitted. Outnumbered even when you had your pack besides you.

And now, you’re alone.

A Weavile darts out in front of you, cutting you off. You use the last of your energy to spew fire at it, but another leaps at you from your right, slashing with its claws.

Luckily, most of its strike is deflected by the bony ribs running along your back. You growl at the stinging from where the claws managed to make contact, and make a sharp turn to the left, scrambling along rocky outcroppings.

You know they’re herding you, from the patterns in which they attacked. You hear the roaring of the ocean ahead of you, threatening you not to venture closer. A deep primal urge within your gut shrieks and howls for you to turn back, yet you persist. You’ll swim if you have to.

The ocean appears between the rocks, black as the sky above, looking as if it will swallow you and leave nothing behind. You spot a cave, and take your chances. The aura it emits sends tingles down your spine, and you know that it’s a dungeon.

Maybe, you can lose them in it. Maybe you’ll be lucky and it’ll provide some much needed supplies.

You race into the cave, and you feel the dungeon’s claws hook into you. You look back, and the entrance is gone. The only way out is forward.

The air is colder than you expected, your breath steaming out in front of you. As you make your way along, the salty water dripping from the ceiling slowly turns into frost, which turns into icicles that look as if they’re desperately trying to ensnare you in their icy grasp.

You run into a wild Snorunt, and although you manage to take it out with your claws and fangs, you know that something was wrong.

It was all a trap.

They had claimed this place for themselves, and they had driven the Wooloo right into the Lycanroc’s lair.

The first one you see stops you dead in your tracks. An Arcanine, from an allied pack perhaps, encased in a prison of ice. Its wild eyes were unmoving, fur frozen in place from an attempt to flee. The air gets colder, making your fur bristle as you begin to shiver. You feel fate clawing at your shoulder, begging for you to acknowledge it.

Yet, you keep going, although your steps are sluggish. Are you being cautious, or is the frost beginning to affect you? The next pokemon you see is a Charmander, curled up on the ground within its icy cage as if it were asleep, tail extinguished.

The icy air chills you right to the bone now, and you’re finding it hard to move. You focus on the heat within your core, desperately trying to ignite it and let it out. You feel a spark, and that’s it. You swear the icicles above you are growing down towards you, clawed fingers reaching out to trap you.

You hear is a high pitched giggle echoing throughout the cavern. Cold claws reach you, entrap you, hold you in place as ice grows up from the floor. You want to cry out, to break free and run away. But you can’t move nor make a noise.

The last thing you see is the Froslass floating before you, wicked grin adorning her features as her jubilant laugh reverberates around the cavern.

“Oh, a Houndoom! What a lovely addition to my collection.”


End file.
